The Detective Who Caught a Falling Angel
by Irene Adler
Summary: What did I ever do to deserve this? And what is this? This is half of the worst of the worst in London out to kill me. And this time I really DIDN'T do anything.


I've reviewed all your tales so now I bring you one of my own. I realize that the girl being related to someone is an old plot but on that note so is the she gets sucked back in time. This said I plan to make it as interesting as I can with a few twists of my own.  
  
~~~  
  
I sat before my desk blank papers scattered in front of me. I knew what I wanted to write, I wanted to write her story, I thought it would help Holmes. But so many things fit her I knew not what to call it.  
  
Then it hit me.  
  
The Case of the Detective who Caught a Falling Angel  
  
It was the winter of 1887 and I was still looking for a gift for Holmes for Christmas. It was the 21st of December, and I was having a nice walk in the brisk weather. Holmes was beside me, staring at passer-bys and no doubt discerning all of their histories. As Serafina would later put it, finding everything down to the dinner and play that resulted in them.   
  
The sun was setting turning the white snow a lovely pale pink. We decided to take a short cut through the park to arrive at our home sooner. Holmes was the only one not smiling this close to the holiday and I knew he was probably excited inside. How could he not be?  
  
We walked under a tree and with a *clump* Holmes was covered in snow that had been shaken loose from said tree. Thinking it a child playing a prank he looked up, prepared to say something only to stick out his arms and take a step forward, catching a body as it fell out of the tree.  
  
He now held a woman about his own age, maybe a little younger, dressed in the strangest garb I had ever seen. She wore black pants with metal sewn on them and a black shirt that was frilly and belonged in an Opera. Other than smelling like the evergreen she'd just fallen out of she smelled of Crème Brule of all things...so maybe she was a chef from a different country, since she had long brown hair I would have thought Spain had she not been so pale. I would have announced this to Holmes had I not seen the black eye she was sporting.  
  
"She must have escaped from an abusive husband." Holmes said noting where my gaze lie.   
  
"Bring her to Baker Street with us, it's just around the next bend and I'll care for her." I offered pitying her but complimenting her silently on trying to escape. Holmes sighed heavily.  
  
"She's not a stray puppy Watson, you can't just bring her home." Holmes admonished.  
  
I raised my eyebrows. "Holmes, you forget, I'm a doctor, it is my duty to care for her as a person who I come across that needs my assistance." I said back, it was one of the few times I went against his judgment and this time he simply sighed and got a better grip on the limp girl.   
  
She was breathing with only a slight rasp so I assumed that maybe it was from the cold on her throat and nothing more. I hoped she wasn't sick, that was the last thing she needed right around now.  
  
We got her home and Holmes walked right past the couch, gently depositing her into his own bed. He pulled her shoes off, boots like what a solider would wear, and the socks that had been soaked by the melting snow.   
  
He called Mrs. Hudson to change the girl into something dry. Then I was allowed to examine her. She didn't have much wrong. Large bruises on her arms and shins as well as one on her shoulder and the black eye she had. Her lip was split but I assumed that was from the cold. Her lips were blue though and that made the blood more noticeable.  
  
I gently felt along her sides looking for broken ribs when she coughed so violently she curled around herself, even in sleep. I felt her forehead and though there was no heat her raspy breathing told of maybe a cold forming. I turned to my bag and began to rummage for my stethoscope.   
  
When I turned back her eyes were fluttering open. One eye was green and to my shock, the other was a very dark brown color. She groaned and her eyes shut, she put a hand to her head and tried to sit up.  
  
"Good Evening Miss, please don't worry, I am Doctor Watson and my companion and I found you in need of a doctor so we took you in." I explained fearing she would become nervous around men after what her father or husband or maybe a stranger had done to her.  
  
"Who?" She rasped, then cleared her throat and in a more docile tone said, "Who?" Once more.  
  
"I am Doctor David Watson and my companion is in the other room just now but will no doubt introduce himself later." I explained.  
  
"I'm right here Watson." Holmes said from directly behind me. I must admit I jumped a little.  
  
"Right, this is Sherlock Holmes." I said. Her eyelids drooped and she adapted a shrewd look. She studied first me and then Holmes.   
  
"What did I do to deserve this?" She muttered still staring at Holmes but somehow...you could tell she wasn't talking to him. She looked at her lap and clenched her hands into fists. "Fuck." She swore before passing out. I blinked several times before it all really sank in. And I walked to her side. I was sure that Holmes already knew far more about her than I ever could hope to.  
  
She stayed asleep for the rest of the evening until at least well after I went to sleep. When I awoke I was stunned to find her not in Holmes's bed. She instead was sitting in the kitchen drinking water. She looked up at me and tried to smile but it was forced very obviously.  
  
"Your friend is passed out on his desk in there and I can't make tea." She explained when I questioned her choice of drink. I looked in at Holmes to see he had fallen asleep at his desk. I wondered at her choice of words for that but didn't ask.  
  
"Well, I see you're feeling better, care to explain what you were doing in a tree?" I asked kindly, sitting down across from her.  
  
"Not really but I will anyway. The name is Serafina, Serafina Mather by the way. It means heavenly angel or something according to my mom. Hence how my nickname is Feather. Wings? Feathers?" I still didn't quite grasp the connection but she smiled anyway and that was enough for me to like her. "Nice to meet you." She said grabbing my hand and shaking it.  
  
"I was walking home from the Chinese Restaurant down the street from my house and I tried to take a short cut. Anyway, I'm wondering around and I saw this guy in weird clothes running around, he'd just killed a cop, weird looking one too. So I figured it was a movie set I'd found and maybe I could con them into letting me be an extra since I could use the cash, so I got closer and it was real blood and a head wound which they can't fake with squibs. So I tried to get away but the guy saw me and I had the sense to kick the other guy in the wrist.  
  
"That sent the gun flying. It did a'course leave me open for him to punch me in the face. My fault there, I dropped my hands. And you have no idea what I am talking about do you?" She asked stopping in the rant she'd gotten on. Whomever had hit her had done some brain damage.   
  
"Miss Mather could you tell me where you live?" I asked worried about her mental clarity. She looked at me with those strange eyes closely. When Holmes looked at you, his eyes moved all over taking in every facet of your life. But she looked at me with that one golden green eye and one brown eye and stared me straight in my eyes. Instead of feeling like she was learning my life, it was as though she were learning my soul.  
  
"Shouldn't you ask *when*?" I thought I heard her say softly. But that made no sense to me at the time so I ignored it, assuming I'd misheard her. "Watson, you don't want to know trust me. Holmes has ruined your ability to believe in something more than science, you wouldn't want to know." She said looking back at the table. She started tracing the grain of the wood with one finger. She was speaking in riddles and it was beginning to annoy me more than some of Holmes's quirks.  
  
"Now miss, shouldn't that be my decision?" I asked, trying to remain pleasant even though I was tired and rather confused at that point.   
  
"Alright. I live in New York, New York." She said with a pained sort of smile, nothing like homesickness, more like bad memories.  
  
"So tell me, why did you come to London?" I asked, probing deeper into her life and wishing, not for the first time that I had Holmes's capabilities when it came to reading people. She ran a hand through her hair and gave a harsh, cynical sort of laugh.  
  
"It was a spur of the moment decision. If you tell me how long it's been since you found me I assume that plus about five minutes would be how long I've been here." She said taking a sip of her water.  
  
"Only about a day. Why did you decide to come here?" I asked next. She was hiding something, that much I knew for sure. You could tell, no matter how much she hid it. Not that she was bad at lying but right now you could tell because every time she lied she let a small barking laugh out. That's what worried me.  
  
"I didn't. It was all a mistake. I have no desire to be here. But it doesn't look like I can ever get home." She said looking into her now empty cup. It wasn't sadness that brought this on, or homesickness, it was more like she was depressed that she had come to our specific doorstep.  
  
Outside the sun was cresting over the town staining the gray London sky a soft rosy hue. The pale light spilled into the room warming us where we sat. Outside birds began to chirp softly and Mrs. Hudson soon enough woke and came in to set out our breakfast. She was thrilled to see our visitor was awake.  
  
"Oh dear I was so worried when these two brought you home. Oh what pretty eyes you have! Let me look!" The older woman gushed. Serafina sighed and smiled with the graceful resignation of someone used to the treatment allowed Mrs. Hudson to inspect her mismatched eyes. That was when I saw it. I gasped audibly and dropped my teacup. It shattered on the floor breaking the softness of the morning.   
  
I saw both woman in profile for an instant more and then as one they both turned to look at me with surprise written on their features. Similar features. And suddenly, the noticeable lies, the things she'd said made sense and I knew what she had meant when she said "Shouldn't you ask when?" She'd tried to tell me and I had shown I couldn't handle it so she had lied. But the answers had all been there and now I could see it. Twice.  
  
"Tell me Miss Mather," I started, trying to sound calm, "What was your mother's maiden name?" She looked confused and then looked to Mrs. Hudson and you could see her taking in all the information to find what had happened. Then she smiled. A small smile that grew until it filled up her whole face and her eyes. She turned to me and clapped a little.  
  
"Very good Watson, you never did give your detecting abilities enough credit. But you must go back a little longer than that. Try my Grandmother for the name died when she got married. I never knew it when I read the stories you penned. I thought it was just a coincedence. But yes. My Grandmother's maiden name was Hudson. Nice to meet you Great, great grandma." Serafina added turning back to Mrs. Hudson, who promptly fainted. Serafina caught her with a little effort and looked to me for help just as Holmes came in.  
  
"What's going on here?" He asked, obviously quite confused. I thought of how it must look. A strange woman we had picked up yesterday evening in the park was holding up a limp Mrs. Hudson and smiling at me pleadingly. Oh and one could not forget the odd coloring of her eyes.  
  
"You want that question or should I since your still dealing with the whole of it?" She asked and it took me a moment to realize she was speaking to me. I looked from her to Holmes and then back.  
  
"Maybe you would do best to explain it." I suggested helping her to get Mrs. Hudson into a chair. "After all I am still struggling with the concept of your origins." I said offering her the best smile I could at the moment. She needed all the friendship and comfort that she could get at the moment. Being as far from home as she seemed to be. And with Mrs. Hudson as proof it was hard not to believe.  
  
"Uhm. Okay from the beginning, my name is S-"  
  
"You're name is Sara, you are from New York where you are a writer. You're family is well off and you spend a lot of time dancing. You have Chinese heritage? Or is it Japanese?" Holmes offered. Mrs. Hudson slowly woke as Serafina held out a cup of tea for her.  
  
"Sort of." She said sighing. She spoke slowly, allowing Mrs. Hudson to comprehend it all. "Serafina. That's S-e-r-a-f-I-n-a, yeah I know it's a very weird name, I get that a lot. I am from New York and I am a writer. My family's not around anymore, I was taken from them when I was ten because my mother was dead and my father was beating me. When that happened I was adopted and started freaking out. My adoptive father suggested I take self defense lessons. That's what you thought was dancing. And neither heritage, unless my family isn't telling me something, the necklace was a gift." She explained not even looking at Holmes. She was more worried about Mrs. Hudson.  
  
"I'm from a few generations in the future. Mrs. Hudson is my great great grandmother and frankly I haven't a clue what the hell I am doing here. Uhm...Watson...I don't think he's breathing..." She said. I looked up and Holmes was staring at her with a look I had seen him give the coldest criminals. And the lady from another time? She was grinning right back at him with those eyes, they seemed to be reading him, turning him inside out and learning ever corner of his intricate mind.  
  
"I know it's insane and improbably but was it not you-good sir-who said something to the effect of when you've eliminated everything that it isn't all that's left, no matter how crazy is what it must be?" She said watching him closely, her eyes never moving from his.  
  
I don't know how long the three of us stood there but soon Holmes dropped into a seat and stretched his long legs out. Waiting for her story.  
  
"I was in a fight. And I got caught in the head pretty bad on one shot. So I bolted because I couldn't see straight to hit. I tripped and rolled away. He aimed a gun at me and said this thing I didn't get and then fired. Next thing I know I see THE doctor Watson standing there introducing himself like we've met for an afternoon tea. That's all I know." She said sitting across from Holmes and leaning, dropping her elbows onto the table.  
  
"What did this man look like?" Holmes asked. She thought for a moment. And her eyes shut as she thought.  
  
"I don't know really, kind of my height, maybe a little taller or shorter but barely...he had dark hair, not like mine, darker, actually black. And uhm...I couldn't see his eyes. It was too dark." She explained.  
  
"You said he said something to you. What was it, as it may shed some light on this mystery?" He asked. She sighed heavily and ran a hand through her hair.  
  
"I'll see to it you die this time." She quoted. Then shrugged as she opened her eyes once more. "Or something to that effect."  
  
"What time do you come to us from, if this is the truth?" Was Holmes's next question. She grinned, something easy for her to answer.  
  
"April 12, 2003." She responded with a grin, which grew wider as my companion and I stared on in utter shock.  
  
"What you knew I was from the future." She said looking to a confused Mrs. Hudson.  
  
"Well I suppose it will be our duty to get you back there." Holmes said in a condescending way.  
  
"Who said?" She asked looking at him suddenly. He snapped to attention and stared back. Gray eyes met both brown and green. "Who said I wanted to go back. Oh how the mighty fall, Holmes assuming something and being wrong." She said, now she was the patronizing one of the pair. I never thought I would meet another like Holmes but in those eyes I saw someone who could defiantly come close.  
  
Holmes gaped at her and she grinned sardonically.  
  
"I never want to leave. Don't care if I stay here but I sure as hell, sorry grandma, don't wanna go back home." She said. Mrs. Hudson still looked a tad unhinged but seemed to be gaining strength from the plain girl next to her. I wondered if in her time she was considered pretty. Maybe if her eyes were both brown she could have potential, but as she was...  
  
"You certainly can't stay here." Holmes announced suddenly.   
  
"She can't can she? Now if I remember correctly you are renting these rooms from me Mr. Holmes and if I heard correctly before I fainted this young lady is a descendant of mine and my children haven't been giving her an easy time. I plan to make up for that by being the mother she never had. Now being that I own this flat I think that I have the final say. I may put up with a lot Mr. Holmes but I will not allow you to throw my relative from your home when she is in need." Mrs. Hudson spoke. We all looked on stunned. And suddenly Serafina began applauding and she hugged the elderly woman.  
  
"Thank you thank you thank you thank you!" She shouted as the two women shared a "family moment" together.  
  
Holmes looked on stunned. It was the first-though not the last-time I had ever seen Holmes speechless.  
~~  
  
Well thank you for reading this. It takes me a while to write the chapters but I hope them to be all about this length or more. I would like reviews very much. I want just once to make 200 or more if that could work but I am desperate so I'll just start the next chapter tomorrow and we'll go from there. To give you an idea this took me four days. 


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